Something Called Hope
by Windycindy
Summary: How do you move on when your entire world has been burned to the ground? Do you rise from the ashes or crumble into dust?


He pressed his face harder into the pillow, trying to escape the noise that seemed to accompany him wherever he went. It was all around him, he just couldn't escape it. It seemed to be coming from the deepest, darkest parts of his soul that he longer wished to delve into. He thought he had gotten rid of it, finally, standing in the forbidden forest and then in the great hall, watching Voldemort crumble to the floor, so very humane in his death. But no, it was still there. Scratching his insides raw, trying to get out, to escape into the world once again. But he couldn't let it, not again. Not after spending the better part of his life trying to defeat it. He didn't have the energy anymore.

He had tried to talk to Ginny about it. During one of the warm afternoons when they escaped to the lake near the Burrow, escaping the weariness that seemed to cling to every individual after the war. The victory just couldn't shadow the sorrow of losing friends, family, limbs and even sanity. Even he felt like he could go insane. Maybe it would feel good. Good to not remember, being lost in your own head. But his head was the very thing he was trying to escape. He almost asked Hermione to obliviate the entire thing from his mind, but he didn't of course. He just couldn't bear to see the look of horror mingled with pity in her eyes. In any case, she already had too much on her plate without having to worry about his sanity. She and Ron were in Australia looking for her parents. Ron had been all too happy to go with her. The loss of his brother weighed heavily on him and Harry didn't blame him for wanting to leave, at least for a little while. He had stayed behind. He was tired of always being on the move, he craved stability, of being able to stay in a place for an extended period of time. So, that's just what he was doing. He was staying at the Burrow for a while. Maybe he would even look for a place of his own. If not, maybe he would renovate Grimmauld Place. Ginny could help him. They could even stay there together. The thought a rare smile to his face.

If only the noises would leave him alone.

Ginny said she heard them too. The screams, sobs, cackles, the cruel laughter of the Carrows as they yet again made them perform the Cruciatus Curse on first years. The quite sniffles she heard sometimes at night from the bed next to hers at Hogwarts, when a student found out a dear one had been killed or captured. She saw them too. The faces of friends long dead. Their laughter from good old days seemed to mock her now, for being alive and well. She saw Fred, alone and miserable, always running towards them but never reaching them. Always vanishing into thin air as he came within arm's reach. The dead look in George's eyes that changed to one of desperate madness when he looked into a mirror. They had had to remove all the mirrors from the house when they had found him, one morning, beating his head against one, his face bloody. He was crying and chanting his dead twin's name. Mr Weasley took all the mirrors out himself. She later saw bloody cuts on his feet.

Hearing her say all this, tearing slipping down her face, her voice hollow, calmed Harry a little, even if he felt a little guilty for it. Maybe he wasn't going mad after all. Or at least he wasn't the only one. The noises in his head were not the same as hers but he supposed that was because their experiences of the last few years had been decidedly different. Despite being in the eye of the storm, he was essentially on the sidelines, he hadn't had to see the light diminish from people's eyes as hope started to seem like a fable. He thought Ginny might resent him a bit for it but she never said anything. He wished she would. Lash out at him, that is. So he could do the same. To let out the anger and frustration building inside him. It was selfish of him but for once in his life he wanted to be selfish, to not give a damn about anyone else and just do what he wanted to. Not because Dumbledore told him to and not because he felt like he had to. Just because.

But he wouldn't, or rather couldn't do it. He just didn't have the energy. He sighed. A knock on the door took him out of his reverie which he was glad for. He had just woken up from what little sleep he'd gotten after having fallen asleep from sheer mental exhaustion during the early morning hours and his head already hurt. He kicked backed the light sheet he'd thrown over himself sometime last night and felt around the bedside table looking for his glasses. He looked up when the door opened, seeing two blurry figures walking towards.

"Still asleep mate? Mum made breakfast hours ago. She probably saved you something though."

Having finally found his glasses, he looked at Ron and Hermione, as if seeing them for the first time. They both had a contented look on their face that he found odd but still envied.

"When did you both get back ?" He grinned and hugged them both tightly. It felt exhilarating. He hadn't realized until now just how much he'd missed them.

"Just a few minutes ago actually. We wanted to tell you... Harry we found my Mum and Dad." He could tell by the the huge smile on her face and tears swimming in her eyes that Hermione, at least, had found peace. She was going to be just fine. That filled him with a hope that he felt apprehensive about but clinged onto with all his might.

They sat on the bed, all three of them, talking for hours before Hermione left. She was going to stay with her parents. Make things right with them. Happy as they were to see her, their anger at having them forget all about her, only to go fight in war did not sit well with them, to put it mildly. But Hermione wasn't worried, having found them gave her new hope. According to her, they were all going to be just fine.

Maybe they will be, maybe they wont, he really didn't want to think about it right now. Not when Ron was asking him to play Quidditch with him outside. They were going to ask Ginny to play chaser. Maybe they could ask George too. See if he wanted to finally come out of his room. Maybe he will. They had all the time in the world to persuade him. It was going to be just fine. There was always hope, even if in fables.


End file.
